Begrudge
by Rasiaa
Summary: It's all long legs and quiet nights of leaning on counters. It's the act of wearing someone else's clothes. And finally, it's the emotion behind watching it as if from underwater. And when you run, they don't follow.


It's a quiet sort of thing; a simple, lovely little thing. At least to them it is.

And maybe that's what makes it so unpredictable.

Hiyori notices it first, as much as she desperately wishes she hadn't. But now it's all she can see. Shinji has been her close friend for many decades now, not that she's ever going to admit it. And so she can spot the changes immediately.

She drags him outside one evening and punches him in the face.

"Hiyori!" She hears him yell distantly. It's as if she's floating underwater.

Then it's quieter, more muffled and harder to make out. She narrows her eyes as she stares at the darkening skin under his cheekbone. Her name is a whisper on his lips. "Hiyori?"

She runs. And he doesn't follow.

...

Hours pass, and her ears are ringing from the words that Kisuke had uttered.

 _It is okay, Hiyori. Don't you think he deserves some happiness after all these years?_

And then;

 _I am here. I am here, if you ever need._

She stumbles into the warehouse, emotionally and physically exhausted from going through the ringer a hundred times. She gave Kisuke a thorough beating, and some part of her hoped it would help; to see her old captain as destroyed as she felt.

It didn't.

The kitchen light is on. There is a low murmur of voices inside. She stamps out her reiatsu and creeps to the doorway.

Ichigo is sitting on the counter, wearing Shinji's shirt and a pair of boxers. His legs swing back and forth quietly as he watches the other- she can hear it's Shinji- and there's a soft smile on his face. The sort of smile you only see on someone else's face, the kind you can never tell you're wearing. It's absent in the sense that it is a subconscious thing; there is no effort being put into making the facial expression. He's leaning onto the upper cabinets and the picture is so serene; and he looks so young, that some part of her can't begrudge him anything. She chases the notion away as she recalls his more violent nature, and then. Hiyori can feel her heart twist in her chest.

And then Shinji comes into her view, sliding into the space between Ichigo's legs, leading his hipbones on the edge of the counter. Ichigo's smile turns into a smug smirk as he tangles his long fingers into Shinji's blond hair. There are more whispers, more breaths than words, but they are speaking their own language.

She should look away. Oh, how she wants to. She really oughtn't torture herself in such a way.

Shinji seals his lips over Ichigo's; the couple leaning into each other seamlessly and without hesitation, two halves of a whole. Hiyori pulls in a stuttered little gasp. The two pull apart to stare at the door.

But she finally runs. They didn't follow, not that she expected them to.

...

It's one in the morning and she left here not even a half hour ago. Yoruichi opens the door. The purple-haired woman isn't even surprised.

Hiyori enters without a word.

Kisuke is dressed in nightwear, and now that she looks Yoruichi is too. "I'm sorry," she mutters, uncharacteristic and sullen, and that's what makes the slightly mischievous look vanish from Kisuke's face with a shutter.

"No need for that, now," he chides, and he moves toward her. She scowls at him, and now- there it is- some relief sinks into his eyes. Her anger begins to boil.

Yoruichi bangs her hip on a counter and yelps, but Kisuke only glances over. "Careful," he warns. Then he sits Hiyori down and sits next to her, and, damn, it is a testament to her turmoil that she doesn't beat him for it.

Instead, she just crosses her arms and turns away from him. He sighs, but allows it.

"Did you read that article I sent you about the new science they've developed for measuring the center of the earth and the gravitational pull...?" Kisuke questions, and since he didn't send her anything of the sort, she quits listening.

Their voices are a dull pounding in her head, and that underwater feeling comes back, gradually.

 _Hiyori...?_

She jumps lightly, but Kisuke and Yoruichi don't notice, wrapped up now in their discussion. She leans on the counter, all long legs and booty shorts and Kisuke's rope and her heart twists again.

 _Hiyori._

The voice is much clearer now. Kubikiri.

 _Snap out of it. That idiot isn't worth losing your head over._

It's been many decades since she's heard from her zanpakutou.

...

She stands to leave, after tea has been finished and the clock spun around another hour. It's nearing three. Yoruichi is yawning, trying to be subtle about it, but Hiyori has been here before. The two of them have not slept apart in a century. Hiyori gets to the door before a hand stops her. She spins around, tiredness spurring her, and moves to swing at Kisuke but. It isn't him.

Yoruichi releases her immediately and her good-for-nothing husband is not to be seen. Hiyori eyes the woman wearily; for all that she would die for the cat and has little doubt that Yoruichi would do the same for her, they've never been close, not the way Kisuke and Hiyori are. The blonde wonders what she wants.

"Stay," is all she says.

Hiyori considers.

...

It's warm.

She hasn't been this warm in a long time.

Frankly, it's alarming, and the feeling of breath on her face makes it even more so. The heat on her hair from the sun is odd, too, because there isn't a window in that direction so what the fuck- She opens her eyes, debates on whether or not to scream, and then decides not to.

But she does kick him in the nuts.

Kisuke gasps and Yoruichi ducks her head into the room, only to start laughing. Hiyori cracks a grin.

...

Mashiro greets her a nine o clock on the dot. "You didn't do the dishes, _backa!_ " she is screaming, and Hiyori rears back, both shocked and entirely unsurprised at once. It's an odd feeling.

Ichigo wanders into the room, rubbing his ear and still wearing the outfit from the night before. He's drowning in it, and the bruises along his neck and shoulders tell a story that she doesn't want to hear. Her heart does that god-awful twist and stutter thing again and her fury builds. It blinds her.

And then it doesn't, because Shinji walks in after him, looking smug and tired all at once. He stares after Ichigo as the teen starts a screaming match with Mashiro and Kensei, and okay, it is way too early to even be awake, never mind deal with this.

And Shinji looks happy with it. He looks happy, and wow, isn't that something, she thinks. She stares across the room, and the former captain doesn't notice, but Rose does. He gives her a nudge. She can feel the heat on her face. She stomps on Rose's foot and storms upstairs to her room. She slams the door.

The yelling dims. And after seeing Shinji look so _happy_ \- so too does the pain in her heart.


End file.
